The Central Question of Oedipus Rex

Here at the Abbey we're breathing a sigh of relief; our Great Conversation class has moved from the time of ancient Greece to the time of Christ, and hope is raining down. It's good to be reminded of the despair of the pagans, but it's better to hear the gospel again.

That pagan despair is especially evident in the last work we read, Oedipus Rex by Sophocles. Rife with dramatic irony and considered to be the ideal tragedy by Aristotle, Oedipus has a lot to recommend it. But because Sophocles was an orthodox polytheistic Greek, no hope underscores the tragedy.

The play begins with Oedipus reigning and apparently happy. He has defeated the Sphinx who was oppressing Thebes and consequently been crowned their king. His marriage to the queen, Jocasta, has been fruitful, and he has ruled well for 15 years. The action begins with the report that Thebes is suffering under a new curse, but Oedipus strides on the scene with the confidence that he can rectify matters.

As it turns out, Thebes is suffering because her previous king, Laius, was murdered, and his murderer has gone unpunished. Oedipus is filled with righteous indignation:

“I shall dispel this plague-spot; for the man,

Whoever it may be, who murdered him,

Lightly might hanker to serve me the same.

I benefit myself in aiding [Laius].”

What makes this statement so ironic is that Oedipus, unbeknownst to himself, is the murderer. When he was born it was foretold that his fate was to kill his father and marry his mother. As soon as he became aware of this prophesy, he did everything he could to avoid it—but through a strange sequence of events wound up doing just what Fate decreed.

When Oedipus is confronted by the blind oracle Tiresias, the irony drips from the page. Tiresias refuses to tell Oedipus the bad news, causing the king to accuse the prophet in terms that underscore his own guilt:

“Worst of traitors!

For you would rouse a very stone to wrath--

Will you not speak out ever, but stand thus

Relentless and persistent?”

Tiresias still resists, so Oedipus reminds him that traitors cannot be allowed to go free. Tiresias responds bitterly, “I am Free! For I have in me the strength of truth.” The contrast is clear: the prophet who cannot see sees the truth clearly, while the sighted king is blind to the truth about himself. The problem of Oedipus Rex is nicely summarized by the prophet: “Alas! How terrible it is to know, where no good comes of knowing!”

And at this moment Sophocles's play resonates with every Christian. Its central question is crucial to our worldview: Is it better to be happy and ignorant, or to know the hard truth that will cause you to despair?

The play answers the question graphically: when Oedipus learns the truth about himself, he gouges out his eyes. Knowing brings him only grief. But is that true in the real world?

Christianity says it's not. Although the world turns a blind eye to the bad news of scripture—all men are inherently sinful and deserve to be cast into hell (Ephesians 2:1-3)—that ignorance cannot result in happiness. True happiness only comes through reconciliation with our Creator, which depends upon repentance. Is it better to know the bad news? Absolutely! Our only hope is to receive the bad news, despair, and put our hope in Christ and His work on the cross. Oedipus receives the bad news about his sin and despairs, but he has no hope for reconciliation. Only Christianity admits the sinfulness of man and our desperate plight and then provides the hope of being adopted into the family of God (Romans 8:15). Knowing is always better! And knowing our Maker is the greatest knowledge we can attain (Galatians 4:7-8).